


all the pain and the truth I wear like a battle wound

by thekaidonovskys



Series: we found love in a hopeless place [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Bratting, Dom Clint Barton, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Punishment, Sub Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4578450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually he has Clint to settle his emotions, to level him or to help him talk it out, but today Clint is being an unreasonable bastard and Phil needs to handle it himself. Just like he had for all the years before Clint. He’s capable of dealing with this himself, no matter how much it hurts.</p><p>At least if he wears himself out, Clint might not flog him bloody in punishment tonight. </p><p>He probably still will. Phil knows he deserves it, and much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of flogging and then for actual flogging for punishment purposes (but non-graphic).

Despite everybody having their own floor in the tower, the team quite like spending nights in together in one of the communal living areas. It’s not often that they’re all there - Natasha, Phil and Clint out on ops, Thor visiting Jane, Steve and Bucky still needing a fair amount of time alone, and Tony and Bruce working on time sensitive and fragile projects - so the nights that they do all manage to assemble are usually peaceful, with conversation around the most simple, inane, and human things possible.

Tonight appears to be as normal:

“It’s amazing the places in the world you can pick up new recipes. When I was in Equador…”

“The pipes were also designed environmentally friendly; if one bursts, the pipe is immediately sealed both sides so nothing can escape and poison…”

“But really, the best cleanup we ever had to do was helping rebuild the place that trains service dogs. There’s no animal more appreciative…”

“So. I met your former sub today.”

And one of these conversations is definitely not like the others.

Clint stills. "I'm sorry?"

”The one from that weekend,” Phil continues. His voice is flat, and he's not meeting Clint's eyes. “Came and introduced himself to me."

"Did he?" Clint's tone is one of forced lightness, and he’s keeping his voice down. "This probably isn't a conversation to have in company, Phil."

Phil doesn’t even try to stay quiet. ”Yeah? Or are you just trying to stall so you can come up with some excuse for why you never thought to tell me about him?”

"Excuse me?" Clint asks, sounding shocked - and rightly so. Phil would be shocked with himself if he were in a frame of mind where he was able to be. "Where is this attitude coming from? That's not how you speak to me."

"Maybe it is when I find out that this guy you talk about with such bad memories is my -"

"Phil," Clint says firmly. "We are in public. Not only will you not name names, but you will stop trying to have this conversation. We will have it in private when we go upstairs."

Phil sighs. "Yeah, well, you say that." Anger is rising now, fast and unstoppable.

"I wasn't aware I had been in the habit of lying to you." By now the room is quiet, everybody pretending not to pay attention, and Clint shoots an apologetic look at the room at large, something that only angers Phil further. "This discussion is over."

"And if I'm not finished talking? If I want to ask why the hell you never thought I deserved to know -"

“I’m getting a bit tired of repeating myself.” Clint doesn’t yell, not ever, but his tone has gone a little steely. If Phil were thinking clearly, he’d know that it means he’s now in trouble. “We will talk later -“

Phil really isn’t thinking clearly. ”What, when I've cooled off? No. I want to talk now while I'm angry enough to be angry."

Clint shakes his head. "We are not doing this, Phil."

"You're an asshole."

"That is unacceptable language -"

"Oh, fuck off."

"Phil -"

"If you won't talk to me, I'm out of here."

Clint calls him again, but Phil's gone, headed for the gym. He's shaking hard, anger and adrenaline and a giant mix of emotions swirling around inside, and he needs to get it out or he's going to _burst_.

Thank god it's empty; but of course it is, considering the entire team was present to witness that display. Phil heads for the nearest punching bag, grabs a pair of gloves - he's not angry enough to risk breaking his hands - and, once they're laced up, turns on the bag and lets loose. He hasn't punched like this in almost a year - wild, furious and uncontrollable. Usually he has Clint to settle his emotions, to level him or to help him talk it out, but today Clint is being an unreasonable bastard and Phil needs to handle it himself. Just like he had for all the years before Clint. He’s capable of dealing with this himself, no matter how much it hurts.

At least if he wears himself out, Clint might not flog him bloody in punishment tonight.

He probably still will. Phil knows he deserves it, and much more. None of his anger is actually about Clint, after all, and -

No. He can’t think right now, or he’s going to go to pieces. This is bad enough.

It takes far too long for the endorphins to release, for the anger to simmer down to a controllable level, and Phil's arms are aching by the time he stops. He holds himself up, leaning on the bag and breathing heavily as he unlaces the gloves and drops them to the ground. Then he presses his forehead to the bag and tries to catch his breath.

"Finished?" Clint asks quietly from the doorway.

Phil starts, then holds himself very still. He can't turn around, can't do anything but slowly sink to his knees and bow his head.

Now that the anger isn't the driving force behind his thoughts, Phil is extremely aware of just how badly he's fucked up.

Clint sighs, and Phil hears his footsteps as he walks over, stopping a few feet away. "This was entirely avoidable," he says, his voice perfectly even. "All you needed to do was keep your cool, ask politely if we could move to our rooms to talk the matter over, and we would be there now discussing it like adults. Instead, you yelled at me, swore at me, ignored my orders, and treated me with horrific disrespect - all in front of others - before storming out on me and resorting to old and bad techniques to try and make yourself feel better, something you promised you wouldn’t do anymore.”

Phil doesn't say a word.

He hears Clint move again, walking around so he's in front of him. "That wasn't my submissive in there," he says. "Not my Phil, who always treats me with respect and never brats badly, not even when he's angry. And I've seen you far angrier about far more important things than one conversation I wasn't willing to have in public, and you've never acted out like that. Which makes it pretty clear that this is about something far more than you've let on. This isn't about you being angry - anger was just the voice you used to make it clear that you're not okay right now."

Phil starts to shake. He keeps his head down and eyes tightly shut.

Clint sits down across from him, and touches a gentle hand to Phil's knee. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

And that's what does it - the fact that despite everything, Clint is still speaking to him with so much love and compassion. Phil shudders hard, then bursts into tears.

"Oh, Phil," Clint murmurs, and Phil reaches blindly for him. "Shh, it's okay, I'm here. Come here, I've got you."

He's in Clint's lap, clinging to him tight, sobbing into his shoulder. Clint murmurs softly, soothingly, and rubs his back, keeping Phil steady as he cries his heart out. It aches, and makes him feel like he's going to fall right apart, but Clint holds him tight and promises safety.

Phil cries for a very long time.

He finally winds himself down to a few sniffs, a couple more tears, and a case of stupidly embarrassing hiccups that just won't quit. After a minute, Clint gently extricates himself, rubbing Phil's arm soothingly when Phil makes a panicked noise. "It's okay, honey, I'm just going to get you some water. I'm not leaving."

"Okay," Phil whispers. He feels ridiculously vulnerable sitting here on the floor, the hiccups only adding to how pathetic he feels, and he tucks his knees up to his chest and tries to feel less sad

Clint goes to the fridge and brings back a bottle of water, which he hands to Phil, rubbing his back while Phil drinks it. It takes a few attempts, but the hiccups finally cease, and Clint gives him a small smile as he takes the water and puts it aside. "There, that's one problem solved."

"Now you get to try and fix me," Phil says, his voice scratchy. "Lucky you."

"You don't need fixing, sweet boy. Something's wrong, that much is obvious, but we've gotten to the point where you'll admit it instead of acting out, and that's very good. Do you want to move upstairs?"

Phil shakes his head - he's in no state to see anybody else. "Can we stay here?"

"Sure. I don't think anybody is going to come and try to use the gym - they all know to keep pretty far away right now."

"I'm sorry," Phil says, choking up again, even though he'd sworn he was out of tears. "I'm so fucking sorry, Clint, I fucked up so bad -"

"Phil," Clint says softly. "Take a deep breath and tell me calmly why you're sorry."

"For not listening to you. For disobeying and getting so angry and for acting like that in front of others. I publicly disrespected your authority and said things that should have stayed private and I... I acted like a brat, and not the good kind. I deserve every punishment in the book and then some. I should cancel my hard limits and let you beat me, that might teach me."

“What?" Clint sounds horrified. "Phil, your hard limits are not something that can ever be used in punishment, no matter how bad you've been. I will not beat you, I will not yell at you... hell, I'm not even sure I'm going to punish you at all."

“What?" Phil echoes. He wasn’t prepared for that one at all.

Clint sighs. ”Sweetheart, you are so badly in distress right now. I knew that from the moment you started bratting - not only because you only do that when you're upset, but because there was very real hurt in your eyes. You acted out because you didn't know how else to handle that, which means you don't need punishments, you need coping mechanisms. And I need to own my share of the blame - I should have told you that it was one of your assigned agents. It was stupid to think he wouldn't have approached you one day."

Phil laughs. It's bitter and a little hysterical. "Approached? Is that what we're calling it?"

"You were there, not me. What do you call it?"

"Cornered. Cornered in the fucking break room."

"In public... oh fuck, that explains a lot. You wanted me to feel what you felt?"

Phil chokes on a sudden sob, because now that Clint says it he realises the truth in it. "I'm sorry, master, I didn't - didn't mean to be cruel."

"I know you didn't, dearest one. But you were in pain, it probably seemed fitting. To make me have a discussion in the same way you were forced to."

"I'm sorry."

"Apologies are forbidden until we're done here," Clint says calmly. "I know you're sorry, honey. Right now I'm focused on getting to the bottom of this; because sure, it's embarrassing and confronting when a past sub - not that I'd even call him that - makes themselves known to you, but it's also fairly normal. And it wasn't just the fact that he's one of your agents either, because you’re professional and wouldn’t let that influence you. Something else happened in that conversation to get you this angry and upset. You used the word cornered - did he deliberately set out to hurt you?”

Phil nods. Even that admission takes a great effort, and his eyes fill with tears again. "He -" he begins, then chokes off and shakes his head. "Can't."

"You can. We've got all the time in the world, and I'm happy to sit here for as long as it takes for you to get it out, but you will tell me. We aren't leaving this room until it's out."

Phil whimpers. "Clint," he whispers.

"Whatever it is, sweet boy, I'm on your side. You are mine and I love you to death, and nobody gets away with hurting you this badly. Help me to help you - tell me what happened. It'll start feeling better."

"Okay. Just... words."

"I know. One at a time is the best way. Do you want me to ask some questions, guide you through?"

"Yes please."

"Okay." Clint strokes his arm, gentle and soothing. "I presume he asked to talk on a submissive level so nothing could be used against him later as him disrespecting your authority?" Phil nods. "Why did he approach you?"

"To - to meet the sub that was weak-willed enough to put up with you."

Clint's hand stills for a moment, then resumes. "Ah," he says softly. "He's still bitter."

"Why?" Phil asks. "That's what I don't understand."

Clint gives him a look. "I'll answer this one, but then you're the one doing the talking. He thought 'the amazing Hawkeye' would be able to deliver the kind of beating he wanted, and the fact that I had hard limits was a disappointment to him. I think he's bitter that I'm a hero but, in his eyes, I'm such a weak Dom."

"You're not."

Clint smiles. "I appreciate that, sweetheart. But I'll be quiet now. What was the first thing he said to you?"

Phil sighs. "He knew my rank," he murmurs, and Clint goes very still. "Not sure how - but since Bucky’s is public record, he said it was obvious why I’d fought so hard to save that monster who nearly killed us all. Just when I was about to put him in his place, he said it was no surprise that you'd settled for me since I was about as low as you could get, then began loudly wondering how many Doms I had to service to be allowed to work at my clearance level.”

The way Clint is holding himself is familiar to Phil from battles - he's a second from lashing out with a kill shot. Thank god Phil knows it wouldn't be aimed at him. "Keep going," he says quietly. “What did you do?”

Phil looks down at his hands. "I just felt so useless," he says. "I couldn't tell him to stop, because he'd taken my authority, and he knew it. And I tried to - no, that's a fucking lie. I didn't even try to stand up for myself. I just took it. And he delighted in that, because it was just another proof of how weak I am and how it's a wonder I don't need a hand to hold to just get to my desk every day. Apparently the popular belief amongst junior agents is that I'm on neutralisers because there’s no other way anybody at my rank would actually be able to function in this environment without some kind of drug."

Clint shakes his head. "That's a goddamn lie, Phil. I keep an ear to the ground, and there's never been a word of that."

"Okay. Still. He... god, Clint, I don't even understand why it hurt so much. And it wasn’t the shit he said about you not loving me or you being my Dom so you could get perks -“

“Jesus christ,” Clint mutters. “He actually tried to claim that?”

Phil nods. “I didn’t buy any of it for a second but I - I didn’t stand up for you either.”

“I’m not cross about that,” Clint soothes. “You were being attacked, beautiful, the only one doing anything wrong in that conversation was him. As long as you know that I love you, it’s okay - and we both know I don’t get any perks being your Dom that I wasn’t already getting as your favourite agent.”

Phil rolls his eyes, but there’s not much heart in it. “It was never about you," he admits. "I mean, it was, but he used you as a way to get to me - and I'm not angry at you for not telling me, I swear, that's not the issue here and I shouldn't have made you think -"

"I know, sweetheart," Clint murmurs. "I'm understanding this a lot better now. We'll deal with the fact that I didn't tell you - and that yes, I should have told you - later. For now I just need to know what else he did."

Phil sighs. "Okay. So... the perks and shit. He could tell pretty quickly, I think, that going that angle wasn’t working, so he went back to insulting me because he could tell it made me freeze. And it's not like I haven't heard all of those things in one form or another before from agents who think they can assert dominance by knocking me down; but I've never let them get to me like that. I've never let anybody make me feel so... wrong."

"You're not wrong," Clint says softly, intently. "You're not."

Phil shrugs and avoids that. "I don't really know what else to tell you. He just carried on in that vein for awhile and people pretended they weren't listening but definitely were, and eventually I think he burned himself out."

"And then you went back to work and sat there for a few hours with the words running around in your head," Clint says. "Then you came home and told me your day was fine and suggested we hang out with the team for awhile - which I now understand was avoidance because if I’d had you alone it would have been much easier to see that something was wrong. And then you exploded, and it's no wonder I had no idea what was going on."

Phil winces and looks away. "I'm -" he begins, then snaps his mouth shut. Clint said no more apologies, and Phil really has no intention of fucking up further tonight. "I wanted to come to you," Phil says. "As soon as it happened, I wanted to get out of that room and come and find you and just let you look after me but... but you weren’t there anyway, I know you weren’t on base -”

“You can always reach me,” Clint reminds him. “And I’ll always come back.”

“I know.” Phil sighs. “That just happened to be a convenient excuse for me not to try and find you. I - I couldn’t go to you because that would have been proving all his points, that I’m needy and useless on my own. I can do it alone. I wanted to prove I could."

"Of course you can, honey. But you don't have to. It doesn't have to reach this point anymore, where you keep it inside and burn yourself out in the gym just to feel a little better."

"I know. I -" His voice wavers, and Phil clears his throat. "I guess I felt like I deserved it."

"What on earth -" Clint begins, then sighs. "Why?"

"I was just so angry at myself - I shouldn't have let him talk sub to sub in work hours, shouldn't have just stood there and took it. I shouldn't..." Phil sniffs and roughly wipes his eyes. "Shouldn't be so fucking weak. So goddamn subby."

" _Phil_ ," Clint murmurs, and his tone hurts because it sounds like Clint is hurting. "Sweetheart, don't you dare. Don't you even think about putting this on you - and this is why I didn't want you to fight it alone, because you had nobody to counter the harsh words with love, and the lies with truth. He made this personal, made it about the one thing you’ve always seen as a weakness, an insecurity, something to overcome to be successful - your rank. But there is nothing wrong with your rank, and nothing wrong with you. The truth is, Phil, that you are perfect."

"No -" Phil argues weakly, then stops to try and swallow back his tears.

"I mean it," Clint says. "You are my sweet, beautiful, perfect submissive. There is not a single thing wrong with you, and I will not let you believe the hateful, bitter words of somebody who has no idea who you are. Who you are is amazing, Phil, and nobody has the right to make you feel like you aren't good enough."

"Clint," Phil begs, his voice breaking over a sob. He covers his face with his hands, trembling, but Clint takes them in his own, pulling them gently away and holding them. "I can't -"

"You are perfect, Phil Coulson," Clint says, looking right into his eyes. "You are what I've always wanted, and I love you so much, exactly as you are. Not in spite of your rank - because of it. Because it makes you who you are. Don't you dare, ever, regret the beautiful person you are because others are too ignorant to see how precious you are."

Clint puts his arms around him, and Phil closes his eyes and _breaks_.

This time it doesn't feel like falling apart, it just feels like feeling everything. Phil sobs out all the anger and hurt and frustration, and Clint holds him through it with promises of love and safety. And when it's over, when he's catching his breath and Clint's found him some tissues, Phil finally feels clean again.

"Thank you, Clint," he says quietly.

"You are absolutely welcome, sweetheart. Better?"

"Better.” Phil sighs, and holds out his hands as Clint sits back down, taking quiet reassurance from Clint’s hands in his. “I think you knew from the start that I have rank issues, and it wasn't that long ago that we talked about it and I apparently jinxed myself after all."

Clint smiles a little. “I was thinking that too. And your rank issues are... not great, but definitely not a deal breaker or anything like that. I’m not telling you all of that has to go away, because I’m well aware that it won’t, or at least not easily. This isn't about fixing you, because there’s nothing broken. But when things like this happen - not just the confrontation, but the turmoil it stirs up in you as a result - I need to know. You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself… most of the time. This was a bit messy. But you could have handled it alone if I weren’t here - but I am here. You're my sub, Phil, my sweet boy who I’m here to look after and take care of when he lets me. Please let me?”

“I will,” Phil promises. “I fucked up tremendously today, but not again. I was stupid to not go to you. I know you can’t fix the rank issues, and I know you’re not trying, but you don’t need to try. Because when I’m with you, I feel like I’m… I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be, however I feel like being. There’s no wrong way to be yours. Just knowing that, that helps me feel better about who I am than I have in a long time.”

“That’s wonderful.” Clint presses a soft kiss to his lips. "You taste like salt," he says, and Phil smiles a little. "Please tell me you're out of tears?"

"I sure hope so. And I'm definitely ready to get off the floor."

Clint stands and holds out his hands, helping Phil off the floor. He holds Phil in his arms for a long moment, just looking at him. "Have you said everything that needs saying?" he asks.

"I think so. If I've forgotten anything, it's just more of the same. I'm done letting it hurt me."

Clint nods. "Good. Let's talk about where we want to go from here - apart from to a more comfortable seat." Phil smiles, and Clint returns it. "I'm satisfied that you've told me everything and that the situation, as far as it affects us, is resolved. If it upsets you again, though, you will come straight to me. No more hiding the hurt, and no bratting. I understand acting out in distress, but I won't be so understanding if you do it again when we've already talked it out."

"No bratting. I promise." Phil shrugs a little. "I might be a bit... insecure? Needing some assurance that I'm simultaneously a big brave agent and your good boy?"

"I can do that. Just be open with me?"

"As much as I possibly can be."

"Good boy. I will put it on record that I don't feel the need to punish you for disrespect. As I've said, you were distressed, and sometimes bad decisions are made when you're too upset to think straight. So I'm not cross, and I don't think you need punishment - but if you feel you need something...?"

"I do," Phil admits. “Just... I feel awful. You deserve so much more respect than I gave you."

"Even if I argue that you were in distress and not responsible for your actions?"

"I didn't speak in the heat of the moment. I decided to bring the conversation up publicly, when I could have held on to it for another half hour or asked you if we could go upstairs. I made a bad decision, and a conscious one.” Phil sighs. “I need this. Need it gone.”

"I'll accept that as grounds for punishment," Clint says. "But only as a minor transgression. And I'll give you the choice - ten strokes with the flogger, fifteen with the paddle, or twenty with my hand."

“Flogger." Phil doesn’t need to explain why - that the welts from the flogger offer more permanence, something to remind him tomorrow, if he starts feeling guilty again about his behaviour, that it’s over. Clint knows that.

"Okay. Now, there is one thing I will insist on. I don't ever make you do anything in public that you don't want to, but this is the exception. You owe the team a formal apology, and you will give it. And to be clear - this isn’t because I feel like you embarrassed me in public or anything like that. This has nothing to do with how I feel. The team were put in an uncomfortable situation against their will, and that’s unfair to them.“

Phil nods. He doesn't want to argue - he knows they deserve it. "Now?"

"I think now is good, on the way through. Then we can head upstairs."

"Okay."

Phil follows Clint back through to the living room, where everybody is still gathered. "Sorry to interrupt," he says, even though every eye has already swivelled in their direction. "Phil has something to say."

Phil steps forward, head slightly bowed. "I need to apologize for my behaviour," he says, loud enough that they can all hear. "It was unacceptable of me to act that way at all, let alone in a public setting. Making you all play witness to something that should have been a private discussion is just not on, and I was wrong to do so. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Phil," Bruce says. "We all have bad days, and sometimes we do things we regret. Your apology is appreciated and accepted."

Nobody argues, and there are nods all around. "Thanks, guys," Clint says. "We'll be upstairs for the rest of the night if anybody needs us - keep disturbances to a minimum though if you could."

He puts his arm around Phil - Phil sees more than one person relax at that - and leads him out. “Did they think that you’d be angry?” Phil asks.

“I don’t think so. I think they were just worried, and they’re glad to see that you’re okay and being taken care of.”

Phil nods. As much as he hates that anybody saw that, he’s glad to know that none of them seem to think badly of him for it. “It was probably good for Bucky too,” he says.

“I think so. They’ll all treat you the same tomorrow, and that’ll help him continue coming out of his shell. Just like you were not all that long ago.”

“Sure as hell came out of it tonight,” Phil says, but without any real bitterness. He’s taking his own comfort from Clint’s easy assurance that nobody’s going to treat him differently for this.

The lift ride is quiet, Clint still keeping an arm around Phil. He lets him go when they get to their room and unlocks the door, then nods him towards the bedroom. "We'll get this dealt with now," Clint says. "Unless there's a reason to delay it?"

"No. Now would be best."

Clint goes to the box and removes a flogger - not his favourite, of course, that one only comes out for play. This one is harsher, designed to create welts. "Shirt off," he orders. "Kneel at the foot of the bed. Hands at your sides." Phil gets into position, and Clint sits down next to him. "Look at me," he says, and Phil turns his head to the side. "Tell me why I'm punishing you."

"For not bringing this to you straight away. For acting out instead of admitting that I was hurting. For not trusting you."

"Good. I'm going to give you ten lashes. You'll count them. When it's over, it's over. No more apologies or holding on to any guilt. Understood?"

"Yes, master."

Clint stands and picks up the flogger. "Count for me," he says.

The lashes are hard and fast. Phil keeps the count, then slumps against the bed at ten, back stinging but bonelessly relieved. "Over," he says.

"Over," Clint agrees. “Bed?”

“Definitely,” Phil says, and gets ready fast, settling in on his stomach and propping his head up to watch Clint put the flogger away and get changed. “You’re… okay?” he has to ask, and Clint glances over with a frown. “I know you didn’t want to do that,” Phil elaborates.

Clint smiles and returns to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he says. “But I appreciate you checking. He strokes a hand across Phil's shoulders, then lies down next to him, Phil shifting on to his side so Clint can fold him into a gentle embrace. "You're such a good boy, Phil," he murmurs. "I'm so lucky to have you."

"I'm the lucky one."

"We both are." Clint kisses him softly. "Anything you need right now?"

"Just you. Can I, um -"

He ducks his head, nuzzling a little hesitantly into Clint's neck, and Clint hums and strokes his hair. "Of course, sweetheart. You know I like it."

Phil presses closer, and Clint holds him tight. His touch is careful against Phil's back, which still stings from the flogger, but Phil would much rather the sting than not having Clint - or not having the certainty that this is over. He's emotionally wrung out, and Clint is keeping him grounded and safe.

Phil has the best Dom in the world, and he clings tight to Clint and lets his poor exhausted mind just rest in the stillness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: three scenes from different points of view, before, during, and after (and the first time actually stepping into Clint's mind).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He threatened to use me as target practice if I ever dared speak to you at a submissive level again."
> 
> "Interesting that that's what you tried to do at the start of this conversation. Do you value your life so little?" Phil finishes the notes on the file, then closes it and looks up. "What do you want from me, Richards?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three scenes around the events of last chapter, with of course some follow up with the sub who started it all in the first place. Because Clint sure as hell isn’t letting that stand - but Phil damn well isn’t either.

_1._

As Phil flees, Clint drops his head, rubbing his temples. When he looks up, stress and worry are clear in his expression. "I'm sorry on his behalf," he says quietly. "He'll offer an apology of his own later, I'll make damn sure of it, but I'm sorry you all had to see that."

"Are you okay?" Natasha asks.

Clint nods. "It's Phil that needs worrying about. JARVIS, where did he go?"

_"To the gym."_

Clint sighs and stands. "If he didn't wrap his hands, I will not hesitate to haul him out of there kicking and screaming," he mutters. "Sorry, guys. Gym might be off limits for a little while."

"It's okay," Tony says. "We'll put on a movie and turn it up."

Clint smiles slightly. "I think he’ll be all out of anger - and I sure as hell won’t be yelling - but thank you. Hopefully I'll bring him back sometime tonight to apologize."

Clint leaves, and for a long moment there's silence. "Is that normal?" Bucky finally asks. He’s wide-eyed, but thankfully doesn’t seem terrified - just curious and obviously concerned.

"Not even close," Steve tells him. "I've never seen Phil like that before."

"I don't think any of us have," Tony says. "Maybe he's a brat behind closed doors?"

Natasha shakes her head. "Trust me, he's the absolute opposite. Phil doesn't brat, and he certainly doesn't lose his temper. There's no way all of that anger was about wanting to have a conversation."

Bruce clears his throat. "Did anybody else hear the rumors of what happened in the break room near Phil's office this afternoon?" Everybody shakes their heads. "Apparently Phil got in an altercation with a junior... well, that's wrong. The junior got in one with him, Phil just stood there and took it."

"That's normal enough, isn't it?" Tony asks. "Juniors yell all the time."

"Not submissive to submissive they don't," Bruce says. "According to the grapevine, it was an attack on Phil as a sub. Also, Clint's name came up a lot. They think this one was a past sub."

"Clint hasn't had a sub in years."

"No, but he's had flings and weekends," Natasha says. "Could have been one of those. Jealousy?"

"Maybe. But there was something weird about it, apparently. A few people said if they didn't know better they thought Phil was on the verge of tears."

Steve winces. "Oh, that's bad. Phil doesn't cry in public - hell, _we’ve_ never seen him cry and I've watched the man being tortured. And we saw him in sub drop and he still didn’t cry then. Clint didn't know about this?"

"He was offsite with me," Natasha explains. "I'm surprised nobody told him, though."

Bruce looks a bit guilty. "I thought he would have known," he says, "otherwise I would've. But I figured he had it under control."

"But why would he yell?" Tony says. "They have great communication, and Phil's usually so damn respectful."

"Because sometimes if you're hurting real deep," Bucky says quietly, "you don't know how to get it out. So you pick your loudest emotion and hope like hell that your Dom is good enough to see what's really happening behind that."

"Shit," Bruce says in the quiet that follows. "Poor Phil."

"Clint will take care of him," Steve says. “He wasn’t headed out of here to give Phil a lecture, that much is for sure. Phil’s gonna get what he needs.”

"And Phil's a sweetheart," Bruce says, smiling a little. "I'm sure once he's feeling better, he'll be very apologetic."

"So what do we do now?" Tony asks.

"Exactly what you told Clint," Natasha says, picking up the remote. "We put on a movie, trust Clint to look after Phil, accept Phil's apology when it comes, and mind our own business. Phil might have made a scene, but we don't need to continue it."

So that’s exactly what they do. And when Phil and Clint appear an hour later - Phil red-eyed but calm; Clint protective and gentle - the apology is accepted and the matter, as far as it concerns everyone present, is finished.

Well. Almost everyone.

***

_2._

Once Phil’s fast asleep, Clint slips out and goes to find Natasha.

It's not a hard search - she’s on their floor, at the end of the hall up on the windowsill, not even pretending to be there by coincidence when Clint comes to join her. “How is he?” she asks.

“Asleep. Worn out.”

“Bruce mentioned there’d been a disturbance today.”

“Someone tore him apart," Clint says, staring out the window. “Ripped him to enough pieces that he didn’t think he could bring it to me - didn’t think he deserved help to put himself back together. Had to hold him while he cried his heart out _twice_. Twice is unacceptable.”

“Going to track this someone down and explain how unacceptable it was?”

Clint laughs bitterly. “ _Someone_ doesn’t have a good track record of listening to me explain things. He hates me, and he took it out on Phil. And now my submissive is in there, exhausted and cried out and with fucking welts coming up on his back -“

“You _punished_ him?”

“He asked. He would have _begged_ if I’d withheld it. He felt so damn guilty for not trusting me and making a scene and - and all the time I sat there listening to him apologise and telling me to _take away his hard limits_ so he could get the punishment he deserved, and I sat there knowing full well that it’s my fault. All of it.”

“Clint,” Natasha murmurs, “don’t. You didn’t tell this guy to go and attack Phil.”

“ _This guy_ is named Jake Richards," Clint says, and sees her start. “Yeah. One of his agents - has been for, oh, three years now? And never in those three years has this guy ever had a reason to attack Phil for being a submissive in a position of authority… until I came along and took Phil as my own and this guy who I wasn’t good enough for decides that that’s enough of a reason to _hurt him_.”

“Still not your fault.”

“I didn’t protect him,” Clint snarls and jumps to his feet, pacing. “I never warned him that he might experience this - you heard him, he asked why I’d stalled on telling him that it was one of his agents, and it’s true. I didn’t know how to tell him. And then I wasn’t there, I couldn’t step in and stop it -“

“Well that one isn’t your fault.”

“I _know_! But I still feel guilty, alright? He didn’t -“ Clint sags, all the anger seeping away, and he drops back to sit next to Natasha. “He didn’t tell me,” he says dully. “Phil _always_ tells me things. Phil trusts me, but he didn’t trust me with this.”

“Of course he trusted you with it,” Natasha says quietly. “Clint, he was embarrassed, and frightened and - and I’m sure a little self-loathing.”

“Way more than a little. You know why he thought he didn’t deserve my love and care and help? Not because he didn’t stand up for himself or for making a scene or anything like that. But because he’s a rank ninety-five. Because of the way he was _born_. Because he’s been taught from the day he got his rank that it’s something he needs to hide if he wants to have a good life, if he wants independence, if he wants to feel like a human instead of someone’s property. And I’ve _tried_ , and tried and tried and tried, to show him that his rank doesn’t mean a thing, and he tells me he knows it doesn’t. He told me that tonight, that he can't regret his rank because it’s made him exactly who he is to be able to be mine. But this still happens.”

"And it will continue to happen," Natasha says. “You know that. Phil’s lived with this for years, and you’ve been together for a matter of months. You loving him is going to help heal a lot of those wounds, but there are still a old scars that might never go away - you have your own too. He’s not a troubled sub, thank god, but I can see he is going to cause difficulties sometimes when it comes to rank issues. We were all taught it, after all, that subs who rank that high can’t look after themselves. Imagine what it was like being one and being told that.”

Clint sighs. “I know. It’s not his fault - none of this is. Guess I just thought - well, he’s always so put together. Thought it’d be easier.”

“I repeat, a matter of months. You’ve known each other for years, which has definitely helped speed things up in terms of trust and communication, but you’re now talking on a whole new level. Phil has never been in a position of dealing with something like this and then being able to hand it over to someone else. He’s still going to feel like he has to fight his own battles, especially the ones against himself.” Natasha takes his hand. “A week ago you were telling me that Phil’s such a good boy, the best you’ve ever had, and he’s an absolute delight to be with because he doesn’t brat and you’re just about always on the same page and he communicates so well. Any of that still not true now?”

“Of course not.”

“Situations happen. Phil didn't handle this great, but he wasn’t put in a great position, and unfortunately you weren’t able to know what was going on until it was too late. But you sorted it out and put him back together and - also think about it this way. Phil doesn’t hide the fact that he has rank insecurities from you. And he might have bottled that up until he burst, but he still burst to _you_. He still made it clear to you what was wrong. He trust you that no matter how insecure he might get about his rank, you’ll get him through it and keep him safe and make him happy again.”

“Is he happy with me, though?”

Natasha raps him across the back of the head. “Dumbass,” she says. “One, _yes_ , obviously. And two, if he wasn’t, do you really think we’d all stand by and let him be unhappy? That man loves you and loves being yours. One miscommunication and bad night doesn’t mean he’s not treated well. You didn’t fuck up, Clint.”

Clint sighs again. “Feels like it. But I guess that’s how it feels when you’re responsible for someone and they get hurt anyway.”

“And it shows that you care about him. Which you will also demonstrate by sharing these fears of yours with him tomorrow morning.”

“Tasha, you really think that’s a good idea? After how emotional he’s been, telling him how I’ve been feeling is just going to make him feel guilty.”

“Or,” Natasha suggests, “it’s going to make him see that he’s not the only vulnerable one, and that you trust him enough to let him in on your insecurities too. Don’t suppress your emotions to try and spare him - that’s fucked up.”

“And you and I know about fucked up when it comes to emotions.” Natasha smiles and Clint returns it. “I’ll tell him. I’m sure he knows anyway - we both know that neither of us are experts and we’re both just muddling through and trusting our instincts and each other. I need to properly apologize to him for not telling him about his agent and explain my reasoning -“

“Which is?”

Clint looks down, trying not to blush. “C’mon, you know why.”

“The fact that he bears a rather good resemblance to Phil?” Natasha says, and he can hear the smirk. “Honestly, I think Phil will think it’s adorable.”

“It’s stupid. Stupid I went with someone for a weekend because I thought they were the closest I'd ever get to Phil. And then it all went wrong and I - fuck, I didn't want Phil getting involved."

"How would he? He wouldn't have let this influence how he treated the guy."

"But he would have looked at him differently. It would have changed his perspective of him, and that's not fair. Richards is a good agent, regardless of what happened with us, and it just felt too much like tattling to the boss about the fight we had so he'll like me more and hate him."

Natasha sighs. "You know that's kind of stupid, right? You've got the line between professional and personal almost perfect - it's not tattling. It's you sharing things with your partner."

Clint shrugs. "At the end of the day, I Dominated one of Phil's juniors, and didn't want to tell him because we both have to work with this guy and just because I have bad memories of him and he hates me doesn't mean we need to bring Phil into it. That backfired, Phil's been hurt, I have someone to use as target practice tomorrow, and at least we're both to blame in Phil's eyes now."

Natasha knocks their shoulders together. “Enough of this. You wouldn’t let Phil beat himself up for this long - stop it, and deal with it in the morning. You’ll tell him off for whatever residual guilt he’ll wake up feeling, and he’ll tell you off for blaming yourself for not being perfect or whatever stupid logic you’re insisting on using, and then you’ll both be fine. Now go cuddle your sub, or whatever it is you romantic saps do.”

That sounds pretty appealing. Clint kisses Natasha on the cheek, smiling when she exaggeratedly wipes it off with the back of her hand. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Go,” she says in answer, and leaves for the lift without looking back.

Clint goes. Phil sighs happily in his sleep when Clint wraps himself around him again, and Clint smiles, holding him close. He’s got a wonderful friend and the best sub possible, and nothing can stand a chance against any of that.

***

_3._

"Agent Coulson?"

Phil's heart skips a beat, but his face stays impassive as he gestures for him to enter. "Agent Richards," he says, continuing with his notes. "What can I do for you?"

The door closes, then locks. Phil doesn’t flinch. "Permission to speak submissive to submissive?"

"Denied," Phil says calmly without looking up from his paperwork. "We're in work hours."

"It's important."

"Then speak to me as a junior to your superior officer, and I'll determine that."

There's a sulky silence, then - "Agent Barton threatened me."

Phil doesn’t even blink. ”He does that on a daily basis to most agents junior to him. Don’t feel too special.”

"He threatened me about you."

"That was silly of him," Phil says mildly. "I'm capable of fighting my own battles, being a Level Seven agent and all."

"He didn't threaten me as an agent. He threatened me as a Dominant."

"Then you don't bring it to me. If you think you've been unfairly treated as a submissive, you take it to Submissive Complaints."

"He threatened to use me as target practice if I ever dared speak to you at a submissive level again."

"Interesting that that's what you tried to do at the start of this conversation. Do you value your life so little?" Phil finishes the notes on the file, then closes it and looks up. "What do you want from me, Richards?"

"Control him."

"You and I both know that isn't how this works. Agent Barton spoke to you as a Dominant, which puts it out of my jurisdiction. If he threatened you as an agent, I have the power to step in if I deem it necessary. But you know that if we're doing this on a Dominant and submissive level, he's the one with the power. He has the legal right to defend me from any perceived threats, and you know he’ll win if you try to stop him from acting as SHIELD regs allow.”

"So what am I supposed to do?"

Phil sighs. "Your job, agent. Come to work, act like a SHIELD agent, and don't engage in power plays with other subs without expecting their Doms to come to their defense. If we continue on a professional basis, we won't have a problem. I'll keep Barton in check, as long as you keep it on an agent level. Challenge him and his and make it personal, and he'll fight, and be completely entitled to do so."

Richards stands stock still for a minute, then turns and storms out.

Phil sighs again and leans back in his chair. "Come on down, Barton," he says.

The vent opens and Clint lands neatly in front of his desk. "Sir," he says.

"A reminder to treat fellow agents with respect."

"Yes, sir."

"Clint?"

Clint looks at him, slightly tentative. "Phil?"

Phil smiles. "Thank you."

"You don't mind?"

"You protect what's yours. How could that make me feel anything but safe?"

Clint groans a little. "You can't say shit like that in work hours, Phil. I just want to put you at my feet and stroke your hair now."

Phil checks the time, then crosses to the door, switches the sign to occupied, then closes and locks it. "All Dominants are entitled to ten minutes per day to check in with their submissives and make sure their needs are met, and longer if there's a problem. Since we've never once used that time, I think we get a bit of back pay."

Clint looks even more hesitant. "You're not worried about how it'll reflect on you?"

It's the reason they've never taken the time before. Phil just smiles. "Clint, word got around about yesterday. Every Dominant at my level has already stopped in this morning to tell me that they won't try to fight my battles for me, but they'll deal with anybody who brings it up in their earshot - and, most importantly, they aren't treating me any differently. Nick asked if I wanted him booted but respected that I said no."

Clint frowns. "I had wondered why there were no consequences. I mean, I know you can't do anything officially now because he attacked you when you'd voluntarily ceded your power, but others can and should be doing something about someone causing that much trouble."

"Things are being done, don't worry." Clint raises an eyebrow and Phil smiles. "I talked to the Submissives Wellbeing department and instructed them to keep an eye on him and get him in for some therapy. I think that'll do him the world of good."

"Yeah?"

Clint sounds skeptical. Phil doesn't blame him. "I know what you've seen of him appears to be tough and emotionless, but subs don't lash out like that unless there's something wrong. He's known about us for months now - why would he suddenly explode one day for no reason?"

"He got tired of bottling it up?"

Phil shrugs. "Or, perhaps, as you said yesterday, he used anger as the voice to tell people that something was wrong."

"You think he's distressed?"

"No good sub causes a scene like that for no reason. You told me what kind of sub he is - he has needs that are beyond a level that a lot of Doms around here are prepared to give, and they're things that, if he attempts to give himself what he needs, it could end up going bad. If I'm right, a talk with the team might help him get some of those things out, as well as match him with someone who can meet those needs safely."

Clint nods slowly. "And if he's just a bad person?"

"Then I tried. And he'll get whatever's coming to him." Phil realises he's still leaning against the door and returns to Clint. "Enough of him. You're here to check in on your sub."

"In his office. With the door closed, and with Richards having just left, and with everybody obviously knowing I'm here."

"And?" Clint shrugs and Phil smiles. "If I survived yesterday with no fallout, I think I can let my Dom take care of me for awhile without repercussions. Besides, I am going to work at your feet; I have field reports to correct and censor, and my back is much happier out of the chair anyway."

"Let me check on it first?" Phil nods, removes tie and shirt, and turns. A moment later, he feels Clint's cool, calloused hands, lightly touching the skin between the welts. "Looks fine," he says. "There's a nasty one at the shoulder blade though, probably irritating you a bit."

"It has been."

"Then it's my duty as your Dom to put you at my feet where it can't hurt you." Phil turns around, smiling, and Clint flat-out grins at him. "Thank you for this," he says. "I know you don't like blurring the lines, but shit, I just need to look after you today."

"I need to be looked after," Phil says as he puts his shirt back on. "I know you didn't want me coming to work at all, so I think I can devote some time to letting you care for me."

"Good boy," Clint murmurs softly. "You're okay? I saw him headed here and tried to get over fast enough to warn you but Hill needed a word."

"I'm okay," Phil confirms. "It felt good, actually, to be able to deal with it openly, and as an agent. He's dealing with the submissive side of things with the right department, so now I just get to treat him like I would any other agent that causes me problems. He knows I'm not prepared to let him push me around, he knows that I won't stop you from stepping in if it does get personal... and if he really infuriates me, he can go on the milk runs for the next few months. I think there's one coming up to Siberia in a couple of weeks."

Clint laughs. "Good to know you'll make good use of your power. Grab what you need to work on and meet me at the couch."

Phil gathers up his files and goes to the couch, kneeling at Clint's feet. Clint hums and twines his fingers into Phil's hair, who sighs happily and rests his head on Clint's knee. "Thank you for being so good to me," he murmurs.

"Always, sweetheart."

It’s easy to work like this - mainly because he’s used to it, always preferring to bring some sort of project to the ground with him. It takes a few minutes to get over being in his office, but soon Phil slips into the soft not-quite-downspace where his whole focus narrows in on his work and everything else just feels soft and easy and taken care of.

After the emotional Chernobyl of yesterday, Phil’s still a little wrung out, and far too happy to let Clint look after him. It helps that he’s been ordered not to feel any guilt - unenforceable of course, but good to remember when he does start feeling mortified by the memory of yesterday’s events. And if his rank issues want to resurface with a vengeance - well, he’s not letting them, is all. Clint wants to take care of him, and Clint also trusts him to take care of himself and come to work as he always does. With the knowledge of what’s expected of him and how Clint feels fully laid out, Phil can sink down to the place in his mind where nothing is required of him except to do what Clint wants.

Of course that changes when his phone rings. Phil absently answers, blinking a few times to focus as the world comes back. "Coulson," he says, and Clint's hand pauses in his hair for a brief moment, before resuming as normal.

It's Medical, reporting in about one of his agents getting in an altercation and sustaining minor injuries. Phil sighs, takes notes on the back of a discarded field report, and promises to call the man up later that afternoon for a long discussion about SHIELD appropriate behaviour.

When he hangs up, Clint laughs. "That is such a mind fuck," he says when Phil looks up curiously. "You, at my feet, projecting as neutral."

Phil smiles. "Blurring the lines?"

"Confusing the shit out of my Dom instincts, yeah. You're mine all the time, but when you project neutral I feel like I shouldn't be actively dominating you." Phil frowns at that, and Clint strokes his cheek reassuringly. "Its okay, sweetheart. It's just work mode, just one of those things we have to deal with."

"Have you ever thought life might be easier if you had another handler?"

Clint shakes his head empathically. "No way. I don't trust anybody like I trust you. I wouldn't change what we've got for the world, Phil. We put our lives in each other's hands on a daily basis, and I love knowing that you've got my back. I trust you to keep me safe at work, you trust me to do the same at home."

Phil leans into his hand. "I'm not going anywhere," he says. "I love being your handler, no matter how much trouble you cause me."

“Good. I’d joke about the same for you being my sub, but I don’t want you thinking for a second that you’re trouble.”

“I’ve proven quite clearly that I can be,” Phil says dryly.

Clint slips off the couch and sits across from him. “What you’ve proven,” he says, “is that you’re my good boy who sometimes gets upset, through no fault of his own, and then atones for his behaviour and goes right back to being good and trusting me to look after him. You’re not trouble, Phil.”

Phil sighs. “I know,” he admits. “It’s sad, really - part of me always wanted to be the bratty sub who had temper tantrums and threw things.”

“Really?” Phil nods, and Clint laughs. “I’m the one who throws shit around here,” he says. “I’ve trashed four different offices in this building, and broken a lot of R&D projects in frustration. How am I the responsible Dom?”

“We’ll never know,” Phil says solemnly.

Rolling his eyes, Clint stands and holds out a hand to help Phil up. “I’m glad you're feeling okay,” he says, "and I’m very proud of how well you put him in his place. Your plan seems sound - hopefully you're right and he's getting the help he needs. Otherwise, you handle things if it’s a work issue, and I’ll make good on my threat if he tries to make it personal.”

"Don't forget Siberia."

Clint laughs, then kisses his cheek. “Be good,” he says. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will," Phil says, frowning as Clint heads for the door. "You're not leaving the way you came?”

“Nah.” Clint tosses a smirk over his shoulder. “Thought I’d stir up the rumor mill a little.”

Phil rolls his eyes as Clint leaves, and returns to his paperwork, resolving to eat lunch in his office. He doesn’t need any drama or stares today, especially if Richards is sulking like Phil suspects he will be, and if Clint is strutting around like he owns the place like Phil is damn sure he will be. Phil’s just going to sit in his office and be good, like he's been ordered, with the knowledge that he's dealt with the situation exactly as he should have and Clint’s happy with him.

His small smile of pride and self-respect never quite leaves his face for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next fic: time for a bit of external focus. How has having Phil (and now Bucky) actively subbing around the place impacted the other Avengers?


End file.
